


Hide Your Diamonds

by helvetica_upstart



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Implied Sexual Content, M/M, and what happens when your biological family becomes your found family, but mostly a study on the Rose siblings, engagement fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-26
Updated: 2019-03-26
Packaged: 2019-12-18 05:09:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18243011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helvetica_upstart/pseuds/helvetica_upstart
Summary: “I’m going to work on wedding planning,” Patrick says, smacking a kiss onto David’s lips, “And you are going to reconcile with your sister.”David wrings his hands. “But — you can’t tell the difference between eggshell and ivory!”“Better make up quickly, then!”Or, Patrick and David get engaged. Alexis worries about getting left behind.





	Hide Your Diamonds

 

It’s a quiet morning, nothing but the sound of David’s slippers shuffling and the hum of the espresso machine. David finds Patrick at their breakfast nook with two steaming mugs on the counter, in a fluffy robe David gave him, writing in his planner. His heart gives an uneven thump. He rests his hands on the back of Patrick’s chair and nuzzles into his neck.

“Morning, gorgeous,” Patrick says, voicer softer than the cashmere sweaters in David’s cedar chest. He raises David’s hand to kiss it, cool metal ring against his full lips. He remembers the days when the word commitment gave him stress-acne. Now, it makes his heart skip a beat every time one of them uses the word fiance.

_Fiance._

“Hi,” David says, stroking the fine hairs at the back of Patrick’s neck, wondering if he can persuade Patrick back into bed. Patrick leans into the touch like a sunflower into a patch of light.

Then David reads the planner over Patrick’s shoulder and pulls away. “Oh…?”

“David,” Patrick murmurs, eyes half-lidded, reaching towards David to get David’s hands back on him. Apparently he would have been easily persuaded.

“That’s, uh. An interesting to-do list you got there.” David walks away from Patrick into the kitchen. He pulls open the fridge, partly to look for breakfast, mostly because he needs the blast of cool air if he’s going to resist the seductive lilt of Patrick’s neck.

Patrick stands in his sock-feet, robe falling open to reveal his bare chest and his boxers. He crosses the kitchen to press himself against David’s back, and David’s head lolls onto Patrick's shoulder. Fuck. He might need to climb into the freezer to cool off. Patrick’s hand slides across David’s hip.

“Mmm,” David says, then smacks Patrick’s hand away. “Nope! You can't distract me, I’m stronger than— ohh. Babe,” as Patrick kisses the delicate skin under David’s ear.

“Do you want—”

“Yes, please,” David hums.

“— to talk about it?” Patrick pulls away and settles back into his chair, slight flush and hitched breath the only indication that he’s affected.

David stares at him with slitted eyes. “That’s rude.”

“What’s rude?” Patrick says innocently, taking a sip of his coffee.

David drops a slice of bread into the toaster and perches on the counter while he waits, sipping the coffee Patrick made him. “So, I think you got our to-do lists confused.”

“Oh, did I?” Patrick muses, scribbling another note into the planner. One page is titled _Patrick’s Wedding To-Do List_ and the opposite page is _David’s Wedding To-Do List._

Patrick’s says: _pick color scheme, start looking at venues, guest list, dress code???_

David’s says: _Talk to Alexis._

“Yeah, see, in our partnership,” The toaster pings and David swipes the bread even though it’s too hot against his fingertips, “I usually handle creative decisions.”

“Do you?” Patrick says, mild, quirking a brow. “Well, then you should get yours done so you can help me out.”

David sighs. “I’ll see her at family dinner tonight. If I must.”

“Good,” Patrick says, smacking a kiss on David’s lips, “Because you know winter white, eggshell, and ivory all look the same to me.”

Patrick grabs his planner and walks out of the room.

“They’re very different!” David shouts after him, wringing his hands, “And I actually have _very_ strong feelings—”

“Better work quickly then!” The bedroom door shuts behind Patrick.

David stares at his toast and mutters to himself, “Completely different colors.”

*** 

Patrick is always invited to the Rose family dinners. He doesn’t always go— he wants the Roses to have the time they need to just be with one another, especially since David moved out of the motel and into their apartment two months ago. Alexis in particular took it hard, to everyone’s surprise. She was really excited for about a week until she got mopey. David thinks it’s because she’s jealous Ted hasn’t asked her to move in, but Patrick thinks she probably just misses David more than she thought she would.

Despite Patrick's best attempts to get out of dinner, David made it very clear he should go tonight.

“If you’re going to make me have an uncomfortable conversation with my sister,” David hissed, “You’ll have to watch.”

Patrick thinks maybe the Roses would have fewer uncomfortable conversations if they didn’t insist on making them all spectator sports for the entirety of Schitt’s Creek. Patrick has not offered this unsolicited constructive criticism.

“And then I told Jocelyn, you know, that it was completely understandable she was out of her depth,” Moira says, slicing the dry Cafe Tropical chicken into increasingly, alarmingly smaller cubes. Patrick _mm-hm'_ s along with the story, since he had already heard it from David, who had heard it from Moira three times over text and once over the phone.

“She’s lucky to have you,” Patrick agrees, nearly keeping a straight face. Not that Moira notices. David squeezes his thigh, and Patrick traps his hand there under his own.

Alexis flings the door open and stalks in, with a maelstrom of wet hair and a crazed smile. Cafe Tropical is mostly empty, but every head turns to stare. She sing-songs, “Wow, hi, family.”

“Alexis. Glad you could join us,” Johnny says, scooting into the booth to make room for her. She slides in beside him, right across from David. Patrick watches her kick David’s ankle and David kick her back. God, Patrick’s glad he’s an only child.

“Me too.” Alexis waves her hands by her face in the world’s most passive aggressive jazz hands. “And thanks for ordering, I would have been so sad if you’d been sitting here hungry while your only daughter’s car broke down in the rain!”

“Oh no!” Johnny clears his throat, “You… walked?”

Alexis’ face scrunches into a fake smile. “All the way from Ted’s!”

The table’s awkward silence is only broken by clattering forks as Johnny, Moira, and Patrick all guiltily stop eating. David takes a bite of his salad with relish. “Okay, it’s like one block.”

“In the rain.”

David rolls his eyes. “You didn’t complain this much when you called me from the Amazon rainforest to charter you a jet. Or that time you were at the sultan’s during a monsoon and needed evacuation money.”

“I think I’ll pick parchment,” Patrick mutters warningly to David, “Be nice.”

David hisses, “Okay, that’s _not even white_.”

“Oh, I know,” Patrick says. David’s fingers have tightened, vise-like, on Patrick’s thigh. He’ll have five little bruises there tomorrow, which he would otherwise be into, but this is much less sexy than how he usually gets them. He strokes David’s arm until David releases his death grip to hold hands instead.

“Those were, like, totally under control, David. Ugh,” Alexis says, waving down Twyla, “Hi, can I get the special?”

Twyla frowns. “Oh, are you sure? Because you don’t usually —”

She scurries away under Alexis’ stare.

“So. What were we talking about?” Alexis asks. She snags David’s glass of water and sips from the straw, leaving a red glossy smear. David’s eyes narrow. He still resists sharing drinks with Patrick, despite his clean mouth, even though they do quite a bit of direct spit-sharing.

Patrick strokes his thumb over David’s knuckles soothingly and says, “I was just about to ask Johnny how things were going at the motel.”

“I wasn’t done, dear—” Moira says.

“Mm, you kinda were,” David interrupts, and Patrick has to cough to hide his snicker. Moira frowns at them both. “Dad? The motel?”

Twyla delicately places a steaming bowl in from of Alexis, who frowns. “Um, Twy? What is this?”

Twyla wipes her hand across her sweaty forehead. “The anchovy mac? You ordered… Yeah, I’ll just take it back.”

At Alexis’ incredulous look, she picks the bowl back up and hurries away. Wordlessly, Patrick pushes his plate with half a BLT towards Alexis. David elbows him, and doesn’t quite whisper, “You don’t need to baby her.”

Alexis picks out the bacon and eats it, then pushes the plate back. “Patrick, you’re like the brother I _literally_ _never_ _had_.”

“Mm, Alexis? Go find some stairs to trip down,” David says, but it doesn’t have its usual bite. Since he and Alexis started fighting last week, he’s been mopey. Yesterday, Patrick had to hide David’s clout sunglasses. He wears them inside all day when he’s sad, and it’d been long enough that Patrick started to miss his eyes. Patrick just needs the Rose siblings to have a conversation like adults so Patrick can unhide them. Those glasses cost more than his _car_.

“Kids, please,” Johnny grumbles. “Can’t we just enjoy each other’s company?”

“No,” David and Alexis say in unison. Patrick sighs and stands up from the table. He didn’t really want to eat an LT anyway.

“Oookay, I’m going to go talk to Stevie about wedding stuff,” Patrick says, “David, join us when you’re done with your To-Dos?”

Alexis stands too and gives a weak smile. “I’d like to come, Patrick. If, um, you’d like that.”

“Of course we would,” Patrick says, right as David says, “They’ve got it.”

“Why do you never let me help you, David!”

“Okay, sorry that for like the first time ever,” David says, waving his fork around, “only _most_ things are about you instead of _everything.”_

The Cafe goes deathly silent. Twyla even stops running the faucet on the sink and drops her dishrag, leaning over the counter to listen. Patrick’s ears burn bright red.

“I’m your sister! You asked Jocelyn about napkin rings,” Alexis rails, “Mom gave you advice about seating. Your Best Woman is Stevie, and she’s your ex _._ ”

If David has noticed the audience, he doesn’t let on. He scoffs. “Oookay, Stevie’s not ‘an ex,’ she’s my _best friend.”_

Alexis’ proud chin wobbles as she tucks her damp hair behind her ear. “Yeah, David? Who’s _my_ best friend?”

She points at him with her middle finger, then storms out of the cafe. Patrick’s heart sinks.

“Oh, no,” Twyla sighs and starts washing dishes again.

David looks at Patrick with wide eyes. “You think this is about Best Woman?”

“Yeah, David, starting to think it might be.”

“I think she feels left out, poor dear,” Moira opines unhelpfully. Johnny shushes her. Patrick puts both hands on David’s shoulders and squeezes, trying to block everyone else out.

David swallows. “I know agreeing to marry me means you have to say I’m right all the time—”

“Does it?”

“But I’m kinda feeling like I fucked this one up.”

“Yeah—”

“But maybe some of this is on you for making me talk to her?”

“Uh—”

“No, you don’t have to apologize to me. I’ll be brave,” David says, and follows Alexis out into the rain.

***

 David finds Alexis in the back room of the vet clinic.

“You need to go away, David. I’m doing very important paperwork for Ted,” Alexis says, even though it looks like she’s just staring at the guinea pigs.

There’s a sign above the cages: _Must be bought in twos. They get lonely!_

He perches on the desk beside her. “I’m sorry.”

She still doesn’t look at him. “I’m not trying to 'make everything about me.'”

“I know.”

“It’s just — you’re my person, but I’m not even on your VIP list.”

David swallows. He can concede, at least to himself, that maybe he’s been preoccupied lately. He and Patrick have been in a honeymoon phase since moving in together that just got more intense when Patrick proposed. He’s been worried about Dad’s health and Mom’s restlessness. Stevie has been stressed about her love life and the motel.

He has not, he realizes, been spending time with Alexis.

“I would run into a fire for you,” he says.

She admits, “I know.”

David reaches out to pat her hand, a little hesitant. He’s not physically affectionate, except with Patrick, but he knows she is.

“Are things good with Ted?” He looks down at the overflowing desk. They’d all assumed those two were great, but…

“It’s just been busy at the clinic,” Alexis says, voice tired, “I really do need to finish that paperwork so he can sleep tonight.”

“I’ll help.”

She hands him a stack of papers, business ones that Patrick has shown him how to do for Rose Apothecary. David watches as Alexis gives herself the clinic papers, sharp and focused like she knows what she’s doing. They work in silence together for nearly an hour. This coexistence is something they haven’t had since he moved out. It reminds him of all the evenings in their motel room: long stretches of quiet only interrupted when she would ask him a question about one of her classes, or when he would have her read a draft of a tweet to make sure it was actually funny.

“Do you ever miss the motel?” Alexis asks, clearly thinking about the same thing.

“No… but I miss you.”

She leans her head on his shoulder. He closes his eyes, hard, unsure why he’s tearing up. God. They spent decades barely orbiting one another, only crossing paths when she was in an international crisis or he needed help hiding a rehab stint from Mom and Dad. Now they’re stuck in the same small town and he’s _missed_ her.

“I’m happy for you and Patrick. Really,” Alexis says.

“You should have just asked why you weren’t Best Woman.”

“Because I got to party with Mark Ruffalo and you didn’t?”

“No.”

“That time you had to play blackjack to un-kidnap me? Because that was only, like, one or four times!”

“Still no.”

“Is it because,” She does the little T-rex dance with her arms that she knows irks him, “Ted and I have had sex, like, all over your store and apartment?”

David snorts. “Um, kind of! But no. At the wedding, you can’t be at the altar. You have to be with Mom and Dad.”

“Oh.” She blinks, clearly surprised. “Oh… of course.”

“It’s just… Mom’s gonna get blackout drunk and climb on stage. And you know Dad gets all frisky at weddings, ugh. And they’ll both cry. Like, a lot.”

“Ew, David,” Alexis complains, but he can tell she’s a little pleased.

“They’ll need you,” David says, “And… I’ll need you, with them.”

“Okay. There’s another urgent job though,” she says, and then jabs at his neck with a manicured nail, “Have you considered a makeup artist? Because having a hickey in your wedding photos—”

He dodges her next poke, sending papers flying. “Ugh! Moment over!”

As he leaves the clinic, he can hear her shout, “And if you think I’m not giving a speech, you’re wrong!” 

*** 

Patrick’s three glasses of whiskey in with Stevie when his phone pings. “It’s David,” he tells her, delighted enough that she goes "ew _."_

 **David:** Are you actually with Stevie or

 **Patrick:** Depends

 **Patrick:** Did you and Alexis make up

 ** **David:**** No

 **Patrick:** Then yes and she wants to know how many colors camo counts as

 ** **David:**** I’m kidding

 ** **David:**** I talked to Alexis. We’re good

 ** **David:**** … you’re kidding too, right?

“Send David a link to a camo Pinterest board, please,” Patrick says and Stevie cackles.

 ** **David:**** I will leave you at the altar if there’s camo

“David says he’ll make the bartender refuse me service if there’s camo,” Stevie reads out from her phone.

 **Patrick:** No you won’t

 ** **David:**** No I won’t

Patrick feels warm all over, and it’s not just the booze. “He says he would marry me even if there was camo.”

“Gross.” Stevie refills her own glass. “Dude. Go home to your fiance.”

“Fiance,” Patrick repeats. He can’t stop smiling. “Bye, Stevie.”

“Tell David I said ‘best wishes.’”

“Of course.”

 **Patrick:** Come home, sweetheart

David’s already there when Patrick arrives. Patrick comes to a dead halt in the door stoop, staring at his fiance. David is rain-soaked, eyelashes clumped, thin sweater stuck to his chest, rivulets of water on his skin.

“God,” Patrick says, throaty, “I can’t believe I get to marry you.”

David does that thing where he bites his lip and stares at the ceiling, trying to hold back emotion. By now, though, Patrick has perfected getting him to let down his walls. He strides over and runs his hands up David’s sides, nosing into the stubbly skin by his jaw.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful,” Patrick says, and David ducks into a kiss to hide his blush.

After a minute, David pulls back, amused. “You drunk?”

“No,” Patrick says, leaning in to suck at his pulse point, “But there was whiskey.”

“Mmm,” David groans, tilting his head back to let Patrick at the long expanse of his elegant neck. “Did you actually do wedding stuff today because if you did, I’m not putting out—”

Patrick laughs, boxing David against the wall with his arms. “You aren’t?”

“Nope.” David squeezes his eyes shut, like just looking at Patrick is testing his resolve.

“That’s too bad.” Patrick bites down on the mark he was working on, and David’s nails scratch up his back, urging him on. “All day, I’ve just been thinking about tearing the clothes off my fiance.”

David’s throat clicks as he swallows hard. “God, yes.”

“Too bad Stevie and I did all the wedding stuff, so my fiance can’t put out.” Patrick sighs and extracts himself from David’s arms. It takes every ounce of willpower he has to walk away from him, towards their bedroom.

“Um — really?” David asks, alarm showing even through his breathiness.

Patrick smiles to himself. He unshucks his belt and lets it drop to the floor with a _thwack_. Over his shoulder he calls, “Of course not. Come to bed.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> so excited to join this beautiful fandom! comments are highly appreciated <3
> 
> EDIT: thank you all for your lovely comments, you have no idea how much it's made my week and motivated me to keep writing!


End file.
